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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476063">it's driving you mad, honey</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstiellar/pseuds/interstiellar'>interstiellar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Canon Asexual Character, Dramatics, Episode Related, Fluff, Humor, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Realizations, Spoilers for Episode 169, no beta we die like romans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:01:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstiellar/pseuds/interstiellar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oscar has a bit of an introspection due to a certain interaction with one Zolf Smith.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's driving you mad, honey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>We 👏🏻 Just 👏🏻 Keep 👏🏻 Winning! </p><p>I am shocked. Flabbergasted. Astonished. Flummoxed. Did not expect episode 169 (nice) to be this fun and funky, but I am extremely grateful for it. </p><p>Title is from the song GUY.exe by Superfruit.</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zolf released his collar and headed to Earhart’s office, leaving Oscar to dazedly stare at his retreating figure. He knew he must look daft, standing there wide-eyed and mouth slightly  agape. On the edges of his vision, he can see Cel raising their eyebrow slightly, flashing a knowing smirk at his direction. Gathering his wits, Oscar determinedly strides towards the wheel, filing the interaction away for later. He tamps down the giddy smile that threatens to give him away and tries to focus on the task at hand. </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Get a grip, Oscar. You're acting like a schoolboy with a crush. Inhale. Suave and sexy, suave and sexy. Exhale. Right then.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t quite manage it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This becomes obvious when he prattles on about being called a “swashbuckling debutante” until Cel slowly backs away, amusement writ on their face. He trails off and looks towards the horizon, sees an almost cloudless sky awash with bright blue, and whispers emphatically;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Oscar could admit to himself that he has a not so inconsiderable amount of affection for one Zolf Smith. He'd known as much for a few months now, since a rainy, utterly mundane afternoon in Japan. He had been writing on his desk, dimly aware that a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits was gently placed just to his right. He'd murmured his thanks and continued with his work. After a few seconds, he heard someone clear their throat, causing Oscar to look up inquiringly. Zolf had given him a pointed look and pushed the tea and biscuits closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They'd better be gone by the time I bring you your dinner," he says before walking out of the office, leaving the door open a quarter of the way through. (It's been a habit of theirs since their first week at the inn, when Zolf had noticed how much time Oscar intended to spend cooped up inside.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar had watched him leave then too, an </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh </span>
  </em>
  <span>reverberating throughout his mind. It was an uncanny feeling, to be made aware of something that had been right under your nose the entire time. He'd sat there watching steam rise from the cup, searching and scanning his memories for a singular moment wherein he'd gone and fell for a gruff, occasionally grumpy, caring, dwarf. In the end he'd come up empty, yet so thoroughly secure in the inclinations of his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took an embarrassingly long time for him to actually remember to eat the snacks, long after the steam had gone out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Zolf had thrown him a pleased smile come dinner time, he’d resolved to clean his plate every meal, no matter the dish or his appetite. Maybe he’d even ask for seconds. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Not bad for your first shift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar turns to see Zolf walking towards him, presumably to relieve him of his duties. He gives him a cocky grin and replies, “Naturally. I’m a swashbuckling debutante, haven’t you heard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf snorts and raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really? Now who could be spreading that around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar waves a hand flippantly, “Oh you know, whispers in the wind and whatnot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? That so?” Zolf leans on the railing and considers him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments like this make Oscar feel like they’re getting away with something. As a child, Oscar would often sneak out of his room, tiptoe towards the kitchen, grab the stone and flint and hurry back to light the candle on his bedside table. He’d spend most of the night reading, half worrying over the shadows cast by the light on the crack under his door, though the excitement that came with breaking the rules and doing what he’d wanted always saw him through. It was well worth the scolding he got when his mother inevitably saw the burnt out candle stub in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whenever Zolf looks at him like this, thoughtful and warm, the entirety of his regard focused solely on him, Oscar remembers the thrill an 8 year old boy felt at the first flicker of candlelight in the darkness of his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You took me by surprise." Oscar says cautiously, unsure if referring to their earlier interaction was wise. "I was expecting more of a lecture." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had expected a reprimand, a shake of the head over his apparent amusement on the general proceedings. When Zolf had pulled him close enough to kiss, he hadn't even thought to register how close their lips were, how Zolf's were slightly chapped from the cold. (Those thoughts came later, when he had ample time to replay the scene over and over in his head.) Nor had he expected the fondness of his tone or the sincerity of his words, in public no less. Certainly not at a time like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar couldn't be happier for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if reading his thoughts, Zolf replies, "I meant it." His gaze doesn't stray from his, challenging him to say a word in contrary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Oscar murmurs, suddenly feeling quite bashful. A few seconds pass with him wondering how to break this steady thrum of tension between them, before he does something drastic like kissing Zolf silly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Zolf interrupts his thoughts by saying, “Get some rest, Wilde. Dinner is at the table. I'll need you here by dawn, bright and early."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives him a mock salute and replies, "Aye aye, First Mate Smith." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf rolls his eyes and makes a shooing gesture, prompting a laugh from Oscar before he retreats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heads to his room and bolts the door down, carefully picking his way towards the bed before sitting down heavily. Then, in a sudden rush of motion, he grabs a pillow and throws himself face down against the covers. He gives a short, muffled shriek and lies still. After a few seconds, he turns on his back, flings an arm over his shoulder, and smiles stupidly at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is well and truly fucked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar feels completely fine with that. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You cannot tell me that Oscar isn't the type to fling himself dramatically in bed, gushing about the man he loves, you just can't. You also can't tell me he hasn't got a mantra he keeps repeating over and over in his head whenever he gets flustered and wants to keep a certain ~image~. Oscar, honey, I don't know how to tell you this but 'Suave and Sexy' won't save you from your feelings now. Can I get an F in the comments for this poor man. 😔</p><p>You can follow me on twitter @interstiellar if y'all want!</p><p>Thanks so much for reading, have a lovely day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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